Unforsaken
by PingZing
Summary: A single member of the scourge's struggle in the snowy wastelands of Northrend.


I apologize for how long it took me to get this out, but I spent some time looking, fruitlessly, for a beta reader. I eventually gave up and just edited it myself. Still, I'm fairly happy with the result. Hope you are as well. Read, enjoy, leave feedback.

Note that this story takes place between TBC and Wrath. I assume that since by the time players arrive in Northrend, that the Alliance armies are firmly entrenched, they've been there for some time. Since we don't know exactly what sort of fighting went on during this period, I've exercised some creative license.

**Disclaimer**: I claim no ownership of the world of Warcraft, the characters, or anything that falls under those two categories. Those belong to Blizzard.

Unforsaken

The snow, carried by the wind, looped and corkscrewed through the air, dusting her lightly. This did not bother her, and never would again. Her boots long eroded by neglect and overuse and rot, her clothing in tatters, she ignored the cold. Jutting out of the scraps of cloth covering her body were what had once been two arms, two legs, and a head. They still were, more or less, but much the worse for wear. The skin was a faded off-white; the color of sun-faded, rotted flesh. At the joints and extremities or her body, pale ivory bone poked through the putrefied flesh, making bludgeoning clubs of her elbows, and ripping talons of her fingers.

Worst of all, were her eyes; luminous, yellow…and blank. To peer into the empty eye sockets illuminated by foul necromancy and dark magic was to look into an empty void. Behind the glowing light, there was no thought, no hope, no _life_.

She stood, hunched over like half a ragdoll, arms limp at her sides, staring straight ahead. A thin line of drool escaped her ruined mouth, and slowly ran its way down her chin. She made no move to wipe it off, much less take notice of it.

All around her were others like her: motionless, lifeless rotting horrors, like some madman's mockery of a clay army. Standing further forward, were the death knights, mounted on skeletal steeds, eyes glowing the icy-blue of the harsh land beneath them, covered from head to toe in ebony black armor that gleamed a sickly green in the thin sunlight. Strapped to their back were their signature blades—runes of power carved into the metal, glowing softly. Further back were the abominations, stitched monstrosities with bulging eyes, too many arms and protruding organs. At the very rear of the army of the living dead were the storm giants. Awe-inspiring when they had been among the living, they now sowed naught but terror. Scarcely capable of supporting their own weight, they trembled, their kneebones knocking together, their still-braided, rotting beards swaying as the three-story juggernauts threatened to topple over at any moment.

She did not notice this. She did not think about this. She was not bored, nor was she curious. All such tendencies had been stripped from her long ago, along with her free will. Now, she waited, existing only to serve. And serve she would, very soon. One of the death knights at the forefront of the army stiffened, and signaled to his fellows. Soon, the dark riders were busily ensuring their platoons—if such a word could be used—were in position and prepared to move.

The whispers in the back of her shattered mind grew in volume, and began to form coherent words. These words were not her thoughts, but rather the voice of another. In the absence of her own will, she was subject to another's. It whispered promises of bloodshed, images of carnage, and commands to slaughter.

_Kill them all_

As one, in complete silence save for snow crunching beneath armored boots and bones, the army charged. The foot soldiers, ghouls and skeletons and other such mindless minions, led the attack. As they neared the enemy lines, they burst into full-fledged sprints, leaping across the ground on all fours, shambling forward, all trace of sentience long since having fled. The rotting tide flowed over the opposing force, and the two armies slammed into one another and _clanged_ to a stop, locked in what could laughably be called mortal combat.

_Leave no survivors_

The voice brooked no argument, and she had no fight left to give one. She loped forward on hands and feet like an animal, face remaining blank. It wasn't until she reached enemy lines that she reacted to the battle at all. She sighted an enemy soldier, and her face twisted into a snarl, she screeched and _leaped_…

The man never stood a chance, her clawed fingers slipping in under an inexpertly buttoned neck-guard and tearing the soft flesh beneath. Warm, red blood coated her hands and she crooned in satisfaction as she licked it off her fingers.

_Do not hesitate_

She looked up from her crouch atop the fallen soldier and leaped into battle once more. She stabbed vulnerable eyes, ripped at exposed sides, and clawed at faces, snarling all the while.

As she lapped blood up from yet another fallen foe, she saw a soldier advancing upon her, and darted to meet him. She leapt, ready to taste the coppery taste of the enemy's lifeblood once more and—

She rebounded off a wall of metal, and fell to the ground on her back. Stunned, she lie motionless until the metal came down on her midsection again and pinned her to the ground. She screamed and flailed, attempting to free herself from the shield that trapped her against the snow-covered dirt. She did not notice the solider behind the shield.

He drew his sword back, face cast in a grimace of rage and hatred, and prepared thrust it into the monstrosity below him when…he stopped. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.

"No…" he whispered, sword arm trembling. His hold on the struggling undead nearly faltered, and he caught himself just in time.

She did not know why the soldier wasn't killing her, and was incapable of wondering why. But as she stared at his face, something in the dark corners of her mind, hidden and buried, screamed.

_For the might of the Sco_—

The voice cut off abruptly. Vaguely, she heard an explosion somewhere behind her, and the crackle of energy. The screaming in her head intensified. It had a raspy, tired quality to it, as if it had been screaming for a long, long time. She ceased struggling, and looked at her assailant. For just a moment, her eyes flickered. As she stared at her attacker, her mouth dropped open and her eyes brightened, as they could no longer widen.

She…

_Remembered_.

They had been inseparable. They had grown up together, joined the Stormwind army together, trained together…

She remembered the swordsmanship drills, he stood behind her, and corrected her stance, moving her shield arm just _so_, and shifting her sword arm like _that…_

They had signed up to ship out to Northrend together. They had gotten seasick on the boat together. They had volunteered to aid the Argent Crusade together. They had fought to claim the rocky cliff that would later house Fordragon Hold together.

But…they had not fallen together.

The fighting to take the rocky spit of land overlooking the Wrath Gate had been intense. The Scourge was truly a relentless war machine, with no need to eat, sleep or think. The human forces had no such luxuries and were hungry, tired and battle-weary. She had been sweating, running on autopilot when suddenly, she slipped and fell…into a waiting group of undead. She never stood a chance. He looked on in horror as they swept over her, and she disappeared, screaming, into the rolling mass of rotting flesh and decaying bones. She had not expected to survive, much less see her brother again.

But now…here he was.

Her brother.

"Aristan…" She croaked, abused and tattered vocal cords hardly up to the task.

He cautiously lifted his shield off of her torso, and lowered his sword. "Alicia…oh, Light, Alicia…" he whispered.

She slowly reached her hand up to his face when something entered her field of view from the side and slammed into him. He toppled to the side with a grunt. She whipped her head around and dove before her newly-freed mind had time to process events. Hunched over Aristan was a ghoul, snarling madly. She tackled the ghoul, and before it had time to react, ripped its rotted head straight from its spinal column and flung it away. She turned to look at Aristan and nearly screamed. His chest was awash with blood, more oozing out every second. There was no need to check the injuries to make sure…they were fatal. For what little that meant in this frozen hell, at least.

"I'm…sorry…Ali…" he burbled, "Guess…it wasn't…meant…to be…" He grinned humorlessly. There was blood in his mouth, pinkening his teeth.

She gritted her teeth and scowled. Wordlessly, she snatched up his fallen shield and sword, and donned a helmet from a nearby soldier's body. She whipped a tabard off a fallen corpse and yanked it over her head. Reacting unconsciously to the familiar weight of sword and shield, her body straightened, vertebrae cracking, her arms adjusted to and she slipped into her old soldier's stance. Shield arm forward, body turned to the side to present the smallest target to the opponent, sword out away from the body, feet planted wide…to the casual observer, she looked almost human. She strode forward without looking back.

The tide of battle had long since passed over the two of them, and she had some walking to do before she reached the front lines. The human army had pushed forward, and she would soon join them. A raspy chuckle forced its way out of her throat as she realized the irony of her situation. From an outsider's point of view all that separated her from the hordes of undead scourge were her weapons and attire. It was almost philosophical, in a way.

As she drew nearer to the human lines, she saw that they had stalled, and several yards away across a stretch of no-man's land, stood the scourge army, also motionless.

She reached the front lines. "What's the hold up?" She rasped. The solider next to her turned slightly.

"No idea. The undead just stopped attacking. Could be a trap." He replied. Alicia turned and faced the soldier, grinning madly.

"Well, let's find out, shall we?" The glow from her eyes lit her helm, and reflected onto her face, coloring it a sickly yellow. The solider gaped and pointed, beginning to hyperventilate. Alicia ignored him and strode forward, into the no-man's land. She could _feel_ the hundreds of pairs of eyes riveted to her. She looked over her shoulder, and flashed a grin at the gathered army. Without missing a beat, she charged the mass of undead before her.

She directed her sprint toward a death knight looking out of place amongst the mass of ghouls and skeletons. She swung from the side, and was met by the death knight's runeblade. She counterd by slamming her shield into his face, stunning him, and drove her sword into his chest. The unholy knight grunted, and collapsed. She sneered, and turned her attention to a nearby ghoul, and quickly decapitated it. She felt something glance off her shield, and turned her head to find a nimble, crouching geist bearing down on her. She ducked under the creature's leap, and spun around, using her momentum to slice the thing in two.

After that, it all blurred together. A mass of undead bore down on her, and she shifted into autopilot. _Step, block, slash, dodge, parry, stab, bash, duck, block, sidestep, riposte, disarm, swing…_

Gore drenched her from head to toe, and coated her sword and shield. Her speed and accuracy was inhuman; but so was she. She had been a talented swordsman in life, and with the inability to feel pain and necromantically enhanced speed and strength granted by undeath, she was unstoppable. She tore through the army of undead, be it death knight, ghoul or abomination that stood in her way. Behind her, she dimly heard the sound of the Alliance forces attacking once more.

She had ceased paying attention to her attackers, rather watching their limbs, their blades and their hands. Anything beyond that was extraneous information and could be safely ignored. She caught a vicious diagonal slash from yet another runeblade on her sword. The impact sent her skidding through the snow. She grunted, re-planted her feet, and watched the runeblade for further action. When it showed none, she looked up at its owner, and froze. Had there been any true blood left in her veins, it would've turned to ice.

It was

_your king_

him. Arthas. She took a deep breath out of habit and steeled herself. She stared into his glowing helmet and scowled. How she wanted to

_obey_

kill him. She brought her shield up and swung her sword. But it was

_heavy. so heavy. why not just put it down_

too heavy to swing suddenly. It clanged into the snow like a death sentence. And still, the Lich King did not move. Instead…he began to laugh.

_did you think_

"Did you think you were free?"

_you were free_

"No."

_no_

"I will destroy your free will as just as easily the second time."

_destroy your free will_

She growled and wrenched her sword out of the snow. "You made a mistake when you raised us. Your mindless army didn't stand a chance."

She felt him grin. "Merely token resistance, to ensure you had to work at reaching me. Now, I have the satisfaction of dealing with you personally."

Her vision began to go dark around the edges, closing in ominously. But that was

_all right. just let go, it'll all be over soon, and you'll never have to think again_

so easy to do. Just relax and let it happen and

_she leaped forward and tore at something. blood and gore coated her fingers and she relished the feeling. she looked down at her victim and glee morphed into revulsion. it was Aristan._

She reeled backward. No, never again. Never! Blinded by horror, rage and the Lich King's creeping control, she swung wildly, and felt her sword catch on something and rebound. She caught a vicious blow to her midsection, hit the ground, skidded several feet and stopped. As her vision refocused, she found herself looking up the Lich King's blade.

"I am no longer amused. You are no longer of use to me. Have you any last words?"

She spat. "At least grant me a clean death, monster." To her surprise, he laughed.

He paused, and looked almost contemplative. "I've heard that once before. How...funny." With that, he drew his runeblade back and prepared to ram it forward.

His laugh had bought her time to think. Her arm blurred and she brought her shield to bear just in time. The tip of the blade sheared through the metal, and impaled the protective disk. She rolled to the side just in time to avoid an armored foot and sprang up, bringing her sword to bear. Now shieldless, she adjusted to a two-handed grip to compensate. She caught a sideswipe from the Lich King's blade on her own, and ducked as she felt her sword give. The top half whirled away, and the shield tumbled off of the end of his runeblade. She dropped the half-sword. Now unarmed and shieldless she surveyed her escape routes. During her fight, the two combatants had been surrounded by lesser scourge. She was trapped.

"I tire of this," the Lich King said. "Begone."

There was a _whoompf_, and then the ground was rushing away from her, both horizontally and vertically. There was no pain. Gradually, she felt her ascent slow, halt, and then there was a terrible downward sensation. She braced herself, but when the impact came, it jarred every bone in her body, and made what was left of her back scream in agony. Her vision flickered, and she grit her teeth and waited for the crushing fire burning all down her back to go away. She could not scream--there was no room for screaming. She struggled to draw breath before she remembered she no longer needed to.

And then, for the second time in as many minutes, she was staring down the blade of a sword. The bearer this time was a human, encased in steel. "Die!" it snarled.

"—ait," she rasped. Miraculously, her assailant did. "'Rivate 'Leesha 'Ar'way. Ser' nummah. Two-six-oh-dee-two-dee-nine of. The Dar'shire reg'ment," she groaned. Her vision flickered once more, and this time it went out. It took her hearing a little longer, and she thought she heard, through the haze of pain and exhaustion something that sounded gloriously like "Medic!"

Half-awake, she felt the sensation of time passing, and gradually, the noise and pain faded. She felt movement and a sensation of weightlessness. She thought she heard muffled arguments, but listened with half an ear and no mind. Her head throbbed. She slept.

--

She awoke to the sounds of muted shouting. "--it lieutenant, she is a Stormwind soldier!" There was a pause. "Loyalty?! She singlehandedly attacked a scourge _army!_ What more proof do you--" A shorter pause. "There is no 'nonetheless' lieutenant! Her status among the living has no bearing on this. Her service record is impeccable, and she not only broke free of the Lich King's control, _she remains loyal to us!_" Another pause. "I don't give a damn about what the brass think!" Vaguely, Alicia wondered who they were talking about. Whoever it was, she hoped things turned out okay for them.

A shadow fell on her, and she looked upward. She willed her vision to focus, and the two people above her coalesced into her brother. "Aristan? Are...we dead?" She considered the shouting. "Doesn't sound much like an afterlife to me..."

Her brother hesitated before answering, "That's a uh, sort of tricky question. You're..." he struggled for words, "no more dead than before. As for me, I'm alive and recovering."

Something about this seemed wrong to her. She frowned while she searched the tattered fragments of her recent memory. "But...the ghoul...?"

Her brother winced, as he recalled the agony of having his innards clawed out. "Incredibly unpleasant, but I'll be okay. A little while after you…disappeared…at Fordragon Hold, we co-opped some of the Argent paladins into giving us a few hands. They've become fixtures since, and one fixed me up after you ran off. It still hurts like hell to walk, but I'll be okay." For the first time, she noticed the bandages encasing his middle and neck.

She smiled vaguely, and failed to notice her brother recoil slightly. "You look like a…bandage covered…thing that starts with an 'm'. Y'know…" she trailed off.

Their reunion was cut short as two men entered the tent, the first entering in an explosion of canvas, the second rather more demurely. Alicia, spotting the stripes on the men's collars saluted out of instinct. The men returned it and she gratefully dropped her hand back to her side. "Hullo, sergeant," she said to the first man. She noticed his upper lip was occupied by an enormous mustache. The tips were waxed and curled.

"Private!" he said, "How're you feeling, eh? The name's Sergeant Andoreth! Quite the show you put up! Charging an entire scourge force then flying out still in one piece! You ought to teach me your secret someday!"

"Thank you sir," she replied. This seemed like the safest response. Her mind was shifting into gear, finally.

"And allow me to introduce Lieutenant Rupert," said the sergeant, gesturing to the tall, thin man behind him. The lieutenant nodded by way of greeting.

"Good afternoon, Private Harroway. It is my unfortunate duty to debrief you. I apologize that you have not received ample rest, but these are...unusual circumstances." Andoreth was glaring a hole into the back of Rupert's head. Rupert pretended not to notice. "Please, tell me everything you remember about the recent battle."

She nodded, and dredged up what she could remember. She began with the first charge, and detailed the events of her murderous rampage, until she ran into Aristan. She recounted her sudden regaining of control, and Aristan's brush with death. She had gotten up to the point where she crossed blades with Arthas when Rupert interrupted.

"Arthas? The Lich King? Reports said nothing of his presence on the field, and none of the Argent Crusaders reported sensing him. Are you absolutely sure, private?"

Alicia frowned. The events seemed dreamlike now, but they were all she had to go by. "Yes sir. We fought, and he nearly took me again, before he...blew me away somehow. I assume with some kind of spell, but I can't be sure. After that, I don't remember much. I guess one of the soldiers picked me up."

Rupert furrowed his brow and rubbed his temples. "If the Lich King has a way of hiding his presence from us, that is dire news indeed. Thank you for this, private. You will be watched closely for signs of...relapse, but other than that, you are free to go." Rupert turned crisply on his heel, and strode out of the tent. Andoreth's glare followed him until the tent flap was closed.

"Don't worry about all that 'we'll be watching you' nonsense, private! I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, eh? I'll bet you feel just fine!" Andoreth bellowed, grinning.

Alicia had to smile in response, "Never better, sir," she croaked. "Can't wait to be up and about again."

"See to it that you get better soon, private! And you too, corporal!" he said, directing the last statement at Aristan, who nodded in response. With that, Andoreth turned and left the tent. They could hear him shouting at somebody else outside.

"Corporal, huh? Somebody's moving up in the world." Alicia nudged Aristan and chuckled. When he didn't respond, Alicia's grin faded. "What's on your mind?"

"So...what do we call you now? You're a thinking undead, so...Forsaken?" Aristan ventured.

She mock-scowled in response, "Subtle as ever." Her features softened. "No, not forsaken. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just Alicia." She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed in response.

They were reunited now, and that was all that mattered. She had not been forsaken by anybody--not her brother, not even the Stormwind army. Whether or not humanity, or even civilization would was another story, and a battle for another day.

For now, the most important thing was that she had her brother back, and he had his sister back. And nothing would tear them apart ever again.

_end_

_--_

_Notes:_ I originally intended this to be much shorter than it was, and a bit grimmer. Alicia was going to duel Arthas, and then get punted next to Aristan, and then would die, together at last. I couldn't really get it to work, and frankly, I like this ending a lot better. I realize there are a couple of loose ends, but those are mostly by design. Also, I noticed that most of the character's names in this story begin with the letter "A". This was entirely unintentional, I assure you.

Oh, and for the curious, this was actually inspired the remix of the Earthbound boss theme, "Buzz Buzz's Revenge". If you can hunt down the Bound Together remix set, give it a listen.


End file.
